For a Death Eater's soul
by thatappleyweirdgirl
Summary: Ron's dead, the Ministry's overrun and the Order's in ruins. Hermione, Ginny and Harry must desperately search for the last of the horcruxes. To claim Voldemort's soul. While Draco must find his own. Full summary inside. Harry and Ginny just as important
1. Chapter 1

**Hello again, that is, if you've read my other story. If so, well done! I like you. If not, well. Anyway, in the author's note of "Connections" I give you my thoughts on flammers. Read that because I really can't be bothered typing it twice. Just know that I hate them and don't bother with people like that. This is the full summary: After Ron's death, Hermione swears revenge on every Death Eater. Draco's caught up in a war he doesn't believe in. And harry and Ginny try desperately to cling to each other asall else crumbles. As they journey through heaven and hell, for the pieces of a broken soul. When all is forsaken, what would Hermione do for a Death Eater's soul? And what would Harry give for Voldemort's? HG/DM, GW/HP. **

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter's not mine. And neither arethe rest of them. It's a game for a god- the way I twist their lives. I'm sure J.K. isn't as nasty. But I happen to like being a god. Apples.**

**For a Death Eater's soul.**

**Chapter 1- after the battle**

Afterwards, Hermione could never sort it out in her mind. Was it the Death Eater who leapt first, or Ron? Was it Harry, or Ginny, who knocked her out of the way? Did Voldemort scream "ATTACK!", or McGonagall "RETREAT!"

Did it matter?

Did anything matter now?

Never the less, no matter how hard she strained her mind, a single image was frozen there: The arm shoving her out of the way of the spell, and Ron falling.

McGonagall had called a retreat somewhere. Harry had sidelong apparated her when it was clear she could not move. Her mind had closed and a choking scream was welling up in her throat, threatening to escape if they didn't bring some sanity back to the world. If she didn't see him. Didn't hold him.

They arrived back at the burrow. Harry was white and shaking. No doubt he was blaming himself- he always blamed himself. Hermione herself refused to believe any of it. Refused to listen to the terrible voice inside.

Ginny seemed to be the only one coping, although she should be the one suffering the most. A girl of only sixteen, she had lost two brothers already that summer. Ron, who was also the closest to her, would be the third. Ever strong, she allowed herself but two steadying breaths, before pulling Harry into her arms, letting him wrench his soul out onto her.

Hermione glared at them. How dare they? How dare they both be alive and whole? How dare they release their grief and anger in each other when she had no-one to ease the deafening pain inside? When she has damned to the eternal hell of his passing. To wake in the night with him not beside her. And to know, no matter what she did, he would never again be.

Hermione had never felt like this. She loved Ginny and Harry, but right then she hated them. She hated them because they were everything she couldn't have. And she wanted to kick, and scream, and cry and, and, and….

"NOOOO! Oh God no! Why! Why him! Tell me! Just TELL me! TELL ME!"

And it didn't matter that they didn't answer her.

Because nothing they could give would ever be enough.

Draco stared around himself. Bodies littered the ground and the air was ripe with flies. They were mostly Death Eaters, but here, and there, was a figure he didn't recognise: McGonagall's people.

He felt numb. As he walked through the devastation, the countless people whose lives had been cut short- hair-raisingly- in the middle. And then, out to one side of him, he saw a red head.

Draco fought the urge to throw up. _Oh God._ he thought. _Please, please don't let it be someone I know! _

He moved slowly over to the flicker of red. Where, Ronald Weasley stared blankly up at the sky. And this time Draco really did throw up. _Oh God. _he thought. _Oh God!_

And it didn't matter that he'd always hated Ron. Didn't matter that they had been enemies since before they'd met. Because here was a boy his own age, a person he'd known since he was eleven, deadly staring up at him.

Draco backed away. _Why am I here? _he thought silently. _I never wanted to be part of any of this. This is a nightmare. This is hell. I didn't want any of it._

He scurried away from the body. So eerily looking at him. And tried to find some sense in something. In anything.

How must Potter and Granger be feeling now?

Draco had yet to loose anyone close to him in this war. But it was only a matter of time.

_Oh God. _He begged his mind: _What am I going to do?_

A black figure had come up behind him. "Enjoying the sights there Mafoy?" he asked, grinning.

_He doesn't care, _thought Draco, _he really doesn't care. But they're dead. Everyone's dead._

"Come on Draco," said the Death Eater coolly, "we have business to attend to."

Draco reluctantly followed him, glancing back once at the lifeless Weasley. Then they disapperated.

Harry caught Hermione. She was kicking, screaming and biting, but he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. And Hermione, who could not stand the gapping emptiness a second longer, collapsed against him sobbing. "He…he…he…" she gasped.

"I know whispered Harry into her bushy brown hair "I know."

He looked at Ginny, who nodded. "I'll meet you upstairs" she said quietly into his ear before disappearing behind him. Harry turned back to Hermione.

It took Harry almost an hour to get away. He found Ginny in Ron's room, as he'd known she would be. Lying face down on the tired old bedspread with the fading orange walls closing around her. Harry walked over and sat down beside her. She moved so that they could lay together, bodies entwined. Ginny rested her head on his chest and closed her eyes. "How's Hermione?" she asked.

Harry sighed. "Not good. Your mum arrived a little while ago devastated. They're comforting each other."

Ginny nodded. "Mum will find it hard after Charlie, then Percy, it's her worst fear."

They lay in silence for a time, staring up at the whizzing Chuddly Cannons members and the shadows moving slowly across the walls. Both knew what needed to be said, but neither felt strong enough to say it- Ginny hoped not to at all.

"I'm OK," she whispered, not moving her face from Harry's chest, "really."

"Ginny," Harry had to force each syllable out, "he's gone Ginny. Ron's dead."

And there it was. She did cry then, they both did. She'd needed someone to say it, to make it truly real, and she was glad it had been Harry speaking.

She began to cry harder, then to sob, her entire body racked with it. Harry too felt the utter inexpressibleness of it, but crying came close. They gripped each other closer, exhausting their grief in each other, so as not to break with it all. Harry knew it was dangerous, even this comfort that he shared with her, but right then it was more strength than he had to let go, and Harry didn't want to. And, as night broke around them, they could do nothing but plunge deeper into each other, and pray for the dawn.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: OK, you know the drill: I own nothing, except this paper clip and a couple of pieces of pocket lint. **

**AN: My apologies, I had meant to post this earlier, but my family went on holiday and I was delayed. You may also note, that my style of writing may change slightly between chapters- this is due to the style of whatever author I've been reading at the time. Now let's get back to ruining Hermione, Ginny, Harry and Draco's lives.**

**Chapter 2- After the tears**

For Hermione, the week after Ron's death was remembered in flashes. For a while she lost all sense of self and fell into the vast emptiness. It wasn't until almost 5 days of half life had passed that Harry came.

She was staring out the window of the kitchen, watching the shadows move slowly across the ground. But she felt no need to glory in the remaining sunlight, for the light clashed so terribly with her broken sprit.

"Hermione."

Her conscious snapped and she looked blindly for the source of the noise: Green eyes swam into her vision. She blinked wearily at him, not really caring what he had come to say, because she'd lost all her purpose when Ron had died.

"Hello Harry."

"Hermione… You're not well. You're not eating…You barely sleep. Everyone's worried about you… I know you're upset, but Ron wouldn't want this."

"I'm not upset, Harry. I'm angry. And I'll never know what Ron wanted because he's dead! And not just dead- _murdered_! By those…Snakes! But I'll get them! By the time I'm finished with them they won't even be able to find the way to hell! They'll pay for what they did to Ron!"

"Hermione I understand. But we can't go hunting down every Death Eater right now. There are more important things that have to be taken care of."

"The horcruxes."

"Yes, the horcruxes- we need to find them if we're ever going to defeat Voldemort."

"Voldemort," spat Hermione, "all this is because of him. He needs to die Harry. Somebody needs to kill him!"

"Yes," said Harry shortly, "and in case you've forgotten- that someone is me. I need you right now, Hermione. I've already lost Ron: We both have. Don't say I've lost you too- I can't do this without you"

Hermione looked at him. He wasn't asking her to forget Ron or to release her hate. He was asking her to help him- help him get revenge for what had been taken from them. He was giving her a purpose.

"Of course Harry. We'll get them. For what they did to Ron, they'll die."

Draco closed his eyes and ran his fingers through his hair…. How much he wanted to sleep right now.

But he couldn't- not unless he wanted to leave these reports unfinished.

Since his father's capture and death the year before, Draco had taken over the Malfoy estate, as well as many of its businesses and investments. Which had resulted in late nights… that continued into early mornings… which ended in tired days.

The main problem was that his father had not cared for the work involved. Consequently, many of the companies had fallen into disrepute. They had started to flourish again now that Draco was in charge, but there was still a long road ahead.

He sighed. The door opened and a groggy Narcissa blinked at him. "Draco, what are you doing up at this hour?"

"Just finishing these reports Mother."

"You should be in bed."

Draco looked at his mother. She still stood the same proud woman she always had, and he doubted anyone had noticed a difference. He, however, could not fail to see the weight lost from her scant form. Or, indeed, the harsh lines that had cornered her eyes and mouth.

His mother had taken the death of his father hard, although he himself had found it a blessing. And now, after all her devastation of the last year, she still insisted on worrying about him as well.

"I'm fine Mother. I'm almost finished anyway. You should go to bed."

She nodded, still looking concerned. "If you're sure Draco. Sleep soon, OK?

"I will" he promised.

The door shut behind her and Draco lay his head on the desk. The cold mahogany served to wake his drowsy mind slightly. Unbidden, the still fresh memories of the past week surged beneath his conscious.

Prevalent in his mind was the image of Weasley's empty face.

Malfoy put his head in his hands, fighting off the revulsion. Wasn't it bad enough that he dreamed about the countless dead? Must they haunt him in his waking hours as well? He hadn't even killed Weasley- why then, did his death plague him so?

"He was a git." He whispered, trying to convince himself it was true. "He was a git and a traitor. I don't care he is dead. I-I'm glad."

Distaste filled his mouth. It was one thing to hate Weasley while he was alive, but to insult the dead seemed cowardly and childish. Anyway, had he really hated him that much? _Yes. _His mind answered him immediately. _You detested him._

Fool that he'd been, Draco had thought that the squabbles of children filled the world, knowing little of the true evil that could lurk in the hearts of men.

_You're wrong. _He thought to his mind. _HE isn't human._

Ginny looked at him. "When are you leaving?" she asked calmly.

"Tomorrow" Harry replied, bending over his bag. "Early, so that they don't try to follow us."

"I'm coming" said Ginny.

"No." How could she not understand? How could she not realise how hard it was for him not to even hold her? He was doing this to protect her. Why must she fight him at every turn? "You can't- it's too dangerous."

He knew immediately that he'd made a grave mistake.

Her voice froze and each syllable shook slightly. "Do not think you can tell me what I can and cannot do Harry Potter. I'm only a year younger than yourself. I've seen just as much hardship. For all you think of Hermione and Ron-" he flinched at the name, "-they have never faced him. I have. Or have you forgotten what I endured those long years ago? This is just as much my fight as it is yours. I'm coming."

"Ginny!" he said, begging her to understand. "It's not that I don't think that you're brave or that you can't take care of yourself, but if we do this, he will target you. We both know that he'd do anything to get at me. I won't have you die because I love you."

"Harry," she said, though her voice had softened, "do you really think he'll spare me if we're not together? I'm already a target, simply because I'm your friend and ally. He knows my mind as he does yours- we both felt him inside of us; we've both felt the fear and rage of that. Yet you would deny me the chance to get revenge for those who have died at his hand? If he wins- we both know I'll be killed anyway. I'd rather die with you than hiding like a coward. Can't you understand that?"

He nodded. "Of course."

"And you'll let me come?"

He reached, tangling his fingers in her flaming hair, and he looked into her eyes and met the iron fire of her will. He sighed. "If you must."


End file.
